Twenty Four Hours of Terror
by FluffleNeCharka
Summary: [FINAL CHAPTER UP!] A ghost is picking off the campers one by one. One problem: Sasha doesn't believe in ghosts, and he may not until it's too late.
1. Go catch it

AN: People on Lucas Forums have said I'm dead, and that the Whispering of my ghost haunts this section. And now I'm writing a Psychonauts ghost story – OR IS IT a ghost?

I'm going to update regularly. Psychonauts needs more humor.

I own nothing. Even this computer. But I do own toe socks.

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Bobby was the first to be attacked.

He staggered into the Main Lodge, dripping blood from his already unattractive feet and spitting as he gasped out a story about ghosts in the campfire area. Milla looked horrified. Benny helped his boss limp to a table. Raz looked delighted at the idea of a ghost being there, because ghosts were something he'd always wanted to investigate ever since True Psychic Tales Issue 8.

Sasha really didn't care.

When he voiced this to the occupants of the room, over his newspaper, Milla turned and glared at him. "Darling, he could have been killed!"

"Agent Vodello, do not get my hopes up before I have finished my coffee."

"Sasha Nein!" she snapped, hushing a sobbing Bobby. "Look how upset he is! This must have been a very powerful psychic entity."

"Look where his nose is," Sasha replied. Milla quit hugging Bobby to her chest and jumped back.

"I'm going to investigate. Razputin, darling, you go use the Coach's broadcasting system to keep children away from the campfire area, okay?"

"Ma'am yes ma'am!"

That said, they left Sasha to his coffee.

They scattered and the next hour was a flurry of terrified kids. Chloe inquired as to the nature of this Earth 'ghost'. Sasha told her to go away. He was only a fourth of the way through his coffee. Maloof came in asking if there would be, in Sasha's opinions, any takers on a protection service. Sasha told him to leave. He was only a third of the way through his coffee. Milka asked if she could go invisible and hide in his cabin. He told her to go far, far away where he couldn't see her. He was only halfway through his coffee. Mikhail yelled at Sasha, demanding to know if it was a bear.

"Go awa-" Sasha paused. "Yes. Yes it is, Cadet Bulgakov. Go catch it."

That said, Sasha finished his coffee in peace.


	2. Muffins and Movies

AN: Sasha has such a misunderstood sense of humor. We all love him, though. Thankies for the review, DigitalDreamer! does happy dance The Almighty DigitalDreamer has reviewed me! I am now a real person!

On with the fic I still don't own. The humor is mild, but it gets funnier soon. (I was up for 4 hours writing. I was tired when I wrote this. I'm sorry.)

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"You told him WHAT?"

"Agent Vodello, it's only nine in the morning, too early to argue." Sasha responded lightly, one hand on the control panel of the Brain Tumbler, the other holding a French muffin with butter on it. "And it's not as if you're sinless yourself."

"Sasha, I have never done _anything_ like what you did!" Milla objected, then paused. "Can I have a muffin, darling?"

"My food is your food."

"As I was saying," Milla continued through a mouthful of muffin, "Mikhail is badly injured. All the other children are scared, darling. They won't – is this blueberry?"

"Yes."

"I love blueberries." Milla finished her muffin and licked each individual finger before continuing, "They won't stop talking about phantoms and spirits. Darling, Quentin started a sacrificial fire and Raz is throwing squirrels in it."

"I know. I cooked the muffins over that fire before they started throwing things in." Sasha smirked as Milla stopped chewing. "In many cultures, sacrifices make people feel secure within their own minds," Sasha concluded dully. "I say you should let them continue, as long as the fire is under control."

"You're right, darling," Milla conceded. "But they're just kids. I worry. And Mikhail seemed so convinced that this spirit was going to hurt him. He said she called him 'Cha' or something. It's a little unnerving. I don't like it when spirits talk."

Sasha paused. "'Cha'?"

"Cha. Do you know what that means?"

"No. My apologies, Agent Vodello." He began working again, grabbing another muffin with telekinesis. "I regret my actions, but for right now, the only good I can do is to analyze the psychic energy readings in the area."

"That's not going to calm the children!"

"Have them watch _Silence Like Glass_."

"What's that, darling?"

"A movie I quite enjoy. Razputin stared at it like he was in a trance for two hours. I assume that the other children would find it interesting." Sasha saw the doubt in her eyes and continued, "It's about a ballerina." Her eyes lit up. "Also, it would mean gathering all of the children into one place. Then they couldn't run around sacrificing anything for two hours."

"Oh, darling, that's a wonderful idea," Milla gushed, clasping her hands together and failing to notice the slightly mischievous look on her partner's face. "They'll just love it. And they can have popcorn and pizza for lunch! It'll be a little party!"

"Here's the movie," Sasha replied, keeping a grin off his face. The DVD floated over to her.

She bounced off, grinning.

Alone, Sasha paused a moment.

His eyes were distant behind his sunglasses. His breathing was slow. Brushing back a strand of his hair, he sat down and rubbed his temples. 'Cha'. How oddly… familiar. He'd heard that before, hadn't he? Or had he? Sometimes the mind played tricks, twisting words into phrases that made sense. It was probably nothing.

Then he grinned to himself. In a few minutes, every Cadet in Whispering Rock (sans the two injured ones) were going to watch an R rated movie. And _Milla_ approved of it. She was probably there at this moment, ordering pizza and hauling the big screen TV into the Lodge, unaware of the dark film she held.

The smile didn't leave his face as he continued to work, occasionally chuckling to himself.

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"Sasha, I know you're a bit of a rebel, but this goes too far!" Ford Crueller glanced at the Agent who stood in his sanctuary.

Sasha was trying to look guilty. A few times, he really did. Then he'd look at their faces and grin.

"Darling, how long have you been in America?"

"Legally or illegally?"

"Overall."

Sasha shrugged. "Twenty years, unless you check with Immigration."

"Baby, are you familiar with the NORTH AMERICAN MOVIE RATING SYSTEM?!" Milla looked ready to set him on fire. Ford placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. Her fists unclenched, but her eyes were still burning with anger.

"Are you saying you did not like the movie?" Sasha asked, barely holding back a grin. Oleander snorted and tried to hide it by coughing. "I felt it was a wonderful tribute to those with cancer in a cruel and uncaring world which has no compassion for the dying."

"It was a great movie, darling. But not one for eleven year old children." Milla shook her head. "You're so selfish sometimes."

"Have you even seen the kids who've been hit?" Ford demanded. "We've been running tests all day, no thanks to you. And now Benny's down for the count, too."

"Yeah," Oleander jumped in, "Carry your own weight, Nein! Boost the morale of the troops! War is a group effort. Teamwork, comradery, and something to fall back on, that's what these kids need! Not a movie about a ballerina getting cancer and helping her roommate to commit suicide in post-World War two Germany."

"Fine," Sasha stood, dignified. Strutting out of the room, he added over his shoulder, "I will do my part for the war effort, Morry. Come to the Main Lodge in an hour, and you'll see."

After he left, there was silence.

"Am I the only one who didn't like that tone?" Morry asked. Agents Vodello and Crueller shook their heads. "That's what I thought."

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	3. Trauma Ward

AN: (stares at Digital Dreamer) So, you assume anyone who doesn't review your fics hates you? Uh-huh. That's… nice. (cough paranoid cough) But no, I'm a fangirl of yours. I just tend to write crappy reviews, so I figure its best if I keep my mouth shut. I can never figure out what to say in reviews, and I end up sounding dumb and not getting my point across. I feel stupid when I try to write reviews. (Probably because I am stupid.) But on with the show!

Ahem, here's the next chapter, which is not as funny, but still wonderful in my eyes.

And I don't own Psychonauts. If I did, Lili's middle name would be Kri.

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"Sasha Nein's Trauma Ward, now open for business!" Raz yelled on top of a makeshift tent that reminded him of the circus bigtop. "We shave heads, remove bullets, and for a nominal fee, house cloth and feed the insane!"

Raz was situated on top of a very large, thick wooden pole Sasha had managed to assemble with some trees pulled from the lake and some psitanium. One thing was for sure: it **smelled** like a trauma ward. Thirty feet of old wood in one place made for an impressive tower. The tent's waterproof, black canvas had been psychically fused together and tied down to the ground, creating an impressive structure next to the Main Lodge, although it was situated against the rocky slope of the mountain between the Main Lodge and the parking lot. It stretched out almost to the path, making it look like an asylum out of a horror flick.

"Oh. My." Oleander started.

"God." Milla finished, then floated up to Raz, who held a megaphone. "Darling, where are the other children?"

Raz shrugged. "Maloof was talking to Sasha about securing a comfy bed if he gets attacked. S'all I know. Oh, wait." He paused, as if deep in thought.

"Well?"

"Clem and Crystal were cheering Sasha over by the graveyard." Raz said this with a straight face, but it was hard not to grin once Agent Vodello turned around. "3…2…1…"

"WHAT GRAVEYARD?!"

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Deep within the caverns that make up the link between the Wilderness and the Beach, Sasha Nein grinned happily and stared at his work. Before he could really appreciate it, though, Ford Cruller stormed in. He took one look at Sasha's decidedly delighted face and groaned.

"This was not what Morry meant!"

True.

But now Whispering Rock had a Death Cave. Coffin shaped holes had been carved into the walls, most of them child-sized. The ground had been shifted to form walkways to said tombs. The walls themselves had been expanded at least fifty feet (when Sasha did something, he gave it his all) and there had be at least thirty coffin spaces, including – Ford noted with some bemusement – THREE adult sized niches.

"I seem to recall that one of the key things you instructed me in as a Psycadet was to be prepared," Sasha returned evenly. A genuine note of pride was in his voice, "Besides, if I'd had Morceau do it he'd have blown the whole place up… or driven a tank through it."

"Nein, Morry wanted you to encourage the kids, not scare them willy-nilly!" Ford objected.

Sasha simply spread his hands. "And what is more reassuring than knowing your tomb kicks ass?"

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"A little to the left!" Raz yelled, although this was not necessary since he had a megaphone. "Careful with that stretcher, Crystal! We need them in tact."

"Yes sir Mr. Awesome Psychonaut man!" Raz flinched when she said that, but nodded as she and Clem moved the last of the four bodies into the tent.

Lili. She'd been hit hard and fast. Luckily, she'd been found by Benny, who brought her in, seeking a reward. Raz bemusedly gave him ten dollars and a promise of more.

Raz was not nearly as amused when he found that 'Lilianna Kri Zanotto' had been written above one of the tombs.


	4. Reeeeeeeeeeally?

AN: Carcaohtar, I update this every freakin' day. Don't complain. Some people update once every two monthes. (sobs) I'm doing the best I can. No one understands me.

To DigitalDreamer: I'm one of the biggest writers in this section? Since when? (blinks) I always considered myself more along the lines of 'the annoying writer who pops up constantly' in this section.

I own nothing, except the Trauma Ward, which is awesome.

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"Razputin, I assure you, Miss Zanotto is as comfortable as possible."

"Yeah," Raz pressed Sasha as they entered the tent, "But are you sure? Really, really sure? There's not like, say, some super cool classified object you could used to make her happier? Some ultra cool music you could play for her? Oh oh oh, let's get Lili a puppy!"

"She is unconscious, Agent Aquato." Sasha shook his head as Raz scrambled up the wooden ladder to Lili. "There is nothing else to be done."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"_Yes_."

"Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally?"

"Dammit, man!" Sasha snapped, "If you think you can do better, go ahead, take her away from the one protected area of this camp! I do not care. But if you continue to pester me, I will _not_ house Miss Zanotto in my ward any longer."

Raz looked at him with actual tears in his eyes. Sasha slowly backed away. Not fast enough. Raz jumped and latched onto him, sobbing hysterically. Sasha stood there, rigid and slightly baffled as to what to do. Then he patted Raz on the back, slowly detached the younger Psychonaut's fierce and blood stopping grip, and threw the young man at Agent Vodello when she walked in.

"Mommy!"

"…Razputin?" Milla asked, raising an eyebrow. Sasha snapped a picture of them for his scrapbook. He didn't usually scrapbook, but Milla insisted it was a good hobby.

And she was right!

"I, uh, mean, um," Raz turned red and stopped hugging her, "Agent Vodello, ma'am." Then his professionalism broke. "He's bein' mean to me!" he pointed at Sasha, who snapped another picture nonchalantly.

"It's his time of the month, darling." Raz snorted at this remark and went outside, to resume his post on the pole, yelling at people. Milla turned to Sasha, "What a lovely… trauma ward."

Indeed, it was. The rocks had been flattened until they were more manageable, and wood paneling had been put down. A few large, wooden platforms had been added on, along with a long ladder that allowed children to be moved to the higher shelves. Blankets and pillows had been laid out, enough for roughly thirty knocked out children. Other than the constant smell of rotting wood, it was great.

"Yes, isn't it?" Sasha replied fondly. "It only took an hour to build. Well, no, the stairs have yet to be started, but I don't feel the need for them until the children lose all bladder control. _Then_ they shall need to be moved high above."

Milla shook her head. "Darling, aren't you even the least bit curious what a ghost is doing haunting Whispering Rock?"

Sasha shrugged, taking out a cigarette. "Perhaps hoping Scooby Doo won't investigate a camp for psychics?"

She groaned.

"Agent Vodello, there is no such thing as a ghost. Let us examine this logically. The bodies of victims have no burn marks, therefore, this is not a cougar. They are not cut, therefore this is not a bear."

"With you so far, darling."

"They assume it is a ghost because bears and cougars are the two main species of animals at Whispering Rock. The idea something else – Linda withstanding – could hurt them is foreign and unacceptable," Sasha smirked triumphantly, "Therefore, there is no ghost. It must be an unknown animal whose species has migrated into this area."

"Or…" she trailed off.

"Or what?"

"It could be a ghost." Milla looked at him with deep, knowing eyes, before turning and leaving an air of mysticism behind her. And a little gas, but no one could tell because of the rotted wood smell.

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	5. Rewarding Hobby

AN: (takes e-muffin from Carcaohtar) I'm not mad, I just hate it when I feel like I do not please my fans.

To Digital Dreamer: Sasha's been drinking. No, really, he has. Irish coffee. A shot of scotch in between building the Trauma Ward and the graveyard. A 'congratulatory' beer after finishing both. Not enough to seriously impair him, but enough to make him let loose an occasional swearword. However, it's really not enough to come up in the continuity of the story. I took it out because I thought no one else would find it funny. So yes, if you're wondering, Sasha is still very lightly intoxicated.

Wow, I feel smart.

Well, that'll end once I put up the disclaimer: I own nothing.

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"A 'Trauma Ward Warming Party'?" Sasha stared at Milla as if she'd grown two heads. "No, Agent Vodello, I will not be having a 'Trauma Ward Warming Party'. It is a Trauma Ward. With any luck, this place will not be necessary for more than a few weeks."

"Darling," Milla looped her arm through his as they entered the tent in question, "It just feels so lonely. At the very least, we should add a couple of lava lamps."

"Bobby has expressed photosensitivity." Sasha countered. "I have odd moments, true, but I will not put him through that." Under his breath, he added, "Even if he is an ass."

"But a party would be good for your scrapbooking, darling, and it's such a rewarding hobby."

"I will not have a party, Agent Vodello. Not until I've finished digging the canal that will transfer all bodily fluids to the parking lot." Sasha looked over at the tent. The canal was one of his dreams. First off, it made the whole thing sanitary, and he needed it to be sanitary for him to stay within it. Second of all, all sewage and other wastes would land next to Morry's car.

"Well, then," Milla sighed. "I'm out of ideas. Agent Cruller wants the children to stay together, so that they won't be hurt and so he can freely investigate the campfire area." She glanced up sharply. "And I certainly can't trust you to entertain them!"

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This was how, four minutes later, all the Cadets of Whispering Rock found themselves under the loathing guidance of Morceau Oleander.

He had huddled them in his 'classroom', gave them all stun guns and helmets, and pulled down a diagram of human anatomy. Including all the adult parts. Ignoring the disgust written upon their faces, he then proceeded to press a button on his radio that played the Star Wars theme all over the camp. Then, grinning fit to scare Satan, he stood before them, ready to make a speech worthy of remembrance.

"Children, we are all that remains of the Psychonauts. We are the pinnacle of psychic force in a world devoid of mercy, love, or compassion. As of now, we must all stick together, and hope that a few of you… survive." He grinned. "Now, what is this." He used his pointer to point to a random part of the human body. In this case, the spleen. "Chloe?"

"A spleen."

"NO! Bubai!"

"A foot?"

"NO! You insubordinate ninny, I should have you give me twenty for that." Kitty handed him twenty dollars. "Nice. Milka!"

There was no response, because she was not there. Oleander groaned and exited the room to tell Sasha in true soldier fashion: face to face. In the meantime, Chloe stood up and put a diagram of her people up. Taking the forgotten pointer, she began to speak of multiple lungs and mucus. Soon they all wished Oleander was still there.

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Oleander had, unfortunately, left the Star Wars theme on.

It restarted itself about the time several squirrels attacked him from above. Sasha and Milla exited the trauma ward to see Oleander covered in squirrels marching towards them in utmost calm, in time to the music. They swarmed over him, but his fists were clenched at his side and he continued to walk towards them, the sunlight gleaming off of the squirrel's fur. Milla fell over, while Sasha raised his camera.

Vodello was right.

This was a rewarding hobby.


	6. A Brief Briefing

AN: It's a short chapter. The next WILL be longer. But I'm not happy right now. I was very pro suicidal earlier today. You're lucky you people are getting this, considering no one bothers reviewing.

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"Let's review the situation," Sasha Nein stated to the assembled table of camp counselors, headed by Ford Cruller. "We have lost Bobby, Mikhail, and Lili. Benny was thrown against a tree, but was able to walk around for a while before he was attacked again, this time in the forest surrounding the GPC. We have no movies, no means of entertainment, no idea what we are dealing with, very few weapons, and Razputin's underwear has been tye dyed various shades of pink. Any suggestions?"

"SASHA!" Raz yelled, then caught himself. "Agent Nein. Can we not talk about my underwear? This is a crisis!"

"No!" Oleander snapped. "That hot pink is like a warning flag for the enemy! They'll see you from miles away."

"Pull up your pants, darling," Milla concluded. Raz went red and did as he was told.

"Now that _that's_ settled," Ford said, drawing guilty grins from all the Agents minus Razputin, "We need to know what we're dealing wi-" he paused. "Sasha, is that beer?"

Everyone stared at him.

"What?" he questioned, taking a sip, "I miss my home. It's German beer. This isn't any different than Agent Aquato's toy cow."

"Hey!"

"STAY ON TOPIC!" Ford said fiercely. They quieted down instantly. "We have a crisis situation here. We can't deport the kids back home because communications have gone down. The phones aren't working, the computers are glitchy, and we're running out of options. Sasha, get everyone into that trauma ward of yours. There's psitanium in that tent and it will keep most psychic creatures away. Milla, you're in charge of keeping the kids morale up and making sure that they don't get bored. Boredom leads to stories and rumors, two things we don't need. Morry, you and I will go into the campfire area and do a manual search of the entire area."

"And me?" Raz asked.

"Guard the Trauma Ward, boy! Just because that tent will keep some creatures out doesn't mean we want them that close to begin with! Set em on fire, confuse them, I don't care. Just keep them at bay," he turned to Sasha, "And Nein?"

"Yessir?"

"Gimme a beer, will you?"

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	7. Adolf!

AN: I needed those couple of weeks off. Now here I am, with the chapter from hell, ready to please all and crush those I do not please.

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"Guarding the Trauma Ward sounded cooler at the briefing," Raz pouted.

Sasha shrugged, looking up from where he was psychically knitting something. Raz raised an eyebrow. When Milla suggested that the kids learn to knit, he'd never thought Sasha would take it up. But indeed, it seemed to have a profoundly relaxing effect on Agent Nein.

"Whatcha making?" Raz asked out of boredom. Soon his ten minute break would be over, and he would have to go up on that God-awful little platform to stare out at the vast wasteland of the camp and watch for bears, coughing and sneezing because dust tends to settle in the camp air this time of year.

Was it Monday? It felt like a Monday.

Back to Sasha's newfound knitting skills, he held up the sweater he'd made. It said 'Kiss me, I've been attacked by an unknown psychic entity'. Raz laughed. Sasha smirked evilly.

"You won't think it's funny if you're wearing it," Sasha said lightly. Then his face darkened and he glanced behind him.

Even a slightly intoxicated Sasha had problems denying the seriousness of the situation. Benny, Mikhail, Bobby, Milka, Lili, and now Clem were all knocked out cold. Crystal sat in something akin to rapture and horror next to Clem, while Raz visited Lili every break he got. She and Milka weren't beaten up as badly as the boys, but they still looked bad. Raz even conquered his dislike of water to put a cold washcloth on Lili's face.

What was worse, Vernon was now trying to evangelize everyone.

"Sasha," Vernon asked, waddling up to him in a white robe, "Do you have a moment to talk about the Lord?" Where he'd gotten a white robe, Sasha didn't know, but it looked weird on him.

"No."

"Sasha, the end is coming. The time of salvation is at hand. Come on, join in the prayer group before the evil demon God has sent to punish us takes your soul into the deepest pits of hell." Vernon paused. "Well, I lied, that's the cafeteria. But it'll still drag you to hell."

"You need therapy," Sasha said, idly finishing the trim of the sweater. "However, Agent Vodello might like to pray with you. Go annoy- talk, to her."

"God be praised," Vernon said in monotone before waddling away. Sasha shook his head in bemusement.

"OH MY GOD!"

There was a pause after the scream.

Then Raz said, "Sasha, that was Kitty."

"And?" Sasha was adding extra long sleeves to his sweater/straitjacket.

"And… if she dies, her dad will sue your whole family."

"Compelling," Sasha looked up as Milla glared down at him. "Fine. But come winter, Agent Vodello, you _will_ buy me a new sweater."

"Okay, darling."

"One that is not pink."

"Damm," Milla said quietly. Then Vernon tugged on her sleeve, and she looked down. "Yes, darling? What is it?"

"Have you got a minute to talk about the Lord?"

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"This reminds me of Guam," Oleander said cheerfully as he and Agent Cruller marched through the campfire area. "Except without the gun fire. Did I ever tell you about how I won that war?"

"Yes, Morry, but-"

"Hot as hell, it was, with soldiers shooting their own comrades. Bombs everywhere, mosquitoes coming at me from all directions. Our defenses were down, and I knew I. Had. To take. The stand!" With each of these sentence fragments, he stomped his foot. This would have been very dramatic had a bear not decided to go poo poo in the middle of the road.

"Stay focused Agent Oleander, please," Ford begged. "That army may have needed you then, but we need you now!"

"Yes sir!"

They marched onward, Oleander's foot making a squishing noise with each step he took. The smell made Ford gag repeatedly and cough. Dear God, it was everywhere! The bears had gotten diarrhea from the ghostly energy, or something like that. Look, it's 2 am. The authoress really doesn't care anymore. The bears were scared of the evil spirit thing, okay? It's just that scary.

Meanwhile, away from my breaking of the fourth wall, the road and land in general was littered with poo. It looked spotted and vaguely artistic. In fact, there seemed to be a pattern to it. Morry realized this when he stepped knee deep into one. It came to him in a flash of inspiration, like a ligtbulb turning on or the meatloaf at my school flashing bright green for no verifiable reason.

"It spells something!" he told Ford excitedly. "This is how my troop used to leave messages for the Air Force-"

"I do not want to know," Ford said quickly, understandably disturbed. "Let's just get to higher ground so we can see it. I can't levitate," he gestured to the boulder on his back, "Or I'll turn into Ranger Cruller. You check it."

Boldly, nobly, amazingly, beautifully, smoothly, courageously, gallantly, marvelously, skillfully, efficiently, brashly, splendidly, incredibly, wonderfully, effortlessly, and with great gusto, Agent Oleander floated to the heavens, his anti gravity effects giving him the look of an angel. An angel with a moustache, glass eye, and poo-covered boots.

"The enemy is clever," he called down after a moment of observation. He drifted back to the ground. There was a look in his eyes, almost gleeful, that made Ford raise an eyebrow.

"Well, out with it, son," Ford prompted, not liking the twitch in Oleander's lips. It reminded him of Morry's 'troubled' times the year before.

"It spells… it says… you see, sir, sometimes the enemy leaves cryptic messages, and…" he trailed off, a few chuckles breaking through. Ford was not amused and gave him a stern look. Oleander straightened up instantly. "It spells 'Adolf', sir, and there's hearts all around the name."

Ford paused. "Adolf?"

"It's the Nazis! They've reformed and are attacking the Psychonauts in a bloody rage that will last a hundred years!" Oleander began to panic. "I knew this hour would come. World War Three is about to begin! Soon bombs will be going off-"

"Morceau-"

"…our food supply will run out-"

"Morry-"

"It's the end, I tell ya, the Nazis caught us off guard and now all is lost…"

"Agent Oleander!" Ford said with authority. Oleander shut up. "Adolf is Sasha's first name. Sasha's his _middle_ one. He just doesn't like being called that. This being is clearly after Sasha. It's not a Nazi operation."

"Nein's first name is Adolf?" Oleander quirked an eyebrow. "What, were his parents Nazis?" Then his face lit up with understanding. "Oh, I see…"

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"Freeze, Nein!" Oleander yelled, throwing open the flap to the tent. Sasha looked up from where he had just finished tucking Kitty in. "You're under arrest, Nazi!"

"I'm not the only one who's been drinking," Sasha said mildly as Oleander levitated up to him. "And you do realize I could sue you for this?"

"I'm onto you, Nein!"

"You've finally realized my suits are not genuine Armani brand?"

"Yes! No! Wait, they're not?"

"Senior agents are paid well, but not _that_ well," Sasha replied. "By the way, do you want your sweater to say Sergeant or Commander?"

"Commander. Now, what was I saying…"

Sasha smirked. "You were about to give me twenty dollars."

"Oh! Right. Here you are, Nein." Oleander handed the money over and then walked out of the tent, oblivious. Ford stared at him.

"What?"

"That's not genuine Armani?"


	8. No Plot Development Here! :

AN: No plot development here, just one the GROSSEST jokes in history. And I blame Miss Trippy for frustrating me with the state of Nebraska, which induced the insanity that made me write this and save it under a bizarre document name in MSWord, hence the lateness of this update. (Took me forever to find it.) So, yes, any complaints should be thrown at Miss Trippy. In fact, let's all sen squid-moose-babies after her, shall we?

I OWN NOTHING! AT ALL! EVER! (Except the undies of this chappy.)

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Ghostly wails were usually scary.

But usually, those listening to the ghostly wails did not have psychic powers. So instead it just got to be annoying. All the children sat there, plugging their ears, as Sasha, Milla, Ford, and Raz tried to figure out what to do. As always, everyone's favorite German Psychonaut had a brilliant, well thought out plan to save them.

"Let's plant explosives in the campfire area, set them off, fill the place with mustard gas, and get on with our lives."

"Sasha," Milla chastised him, "No, darling, just… no." She paused. "Is that a bottle of wine?"

"No, it's Cadet Tripe's god." Sasha replied drolly. Then his features grew serious, camouflaging the sinister gears that were turning in his mind. "In all honesty, Agent Vodello, some mild mustard gas and explosions should work to either injure the entity or bring it out into the open for closer examination. I fail to see the flaw in this plan."

"And I fail to see it when Lili doesn't wear underwear, but that doesn't mean it's not happening." Everyone stared at him. "Uh, I mean, things aren't always as they seem."

"Clearly," Ford said, looking vaguely disgusted, "But the fact is Nein, your plan requires gas we don't have. I used it already makin' the burgers up at the Lodge."

"Now what?" Milla asked quietly. "What can we do?"

This would have been a moment of silence and gravity had Crystal not farted. Everyone cleared out of the trauma ward like bats out of Hell, leaving the injured behind to suffer a horrible fate; burning nose syndrome. (Except for Raz, who TK'd Lili over to him and ran.) They stumbled out onto the grass, gasping for air and unable to tell which way was up. Sasha collapsed, coughed, and then pulled Milla down alongside him, at which point she began to roll down the hill, disoriented from the gas.

She hit a tree and lay there, dazed.

Sasha walked over to her, concerned in spite of his intoxication. "Agent Vodello?"

"Darling?"

"Yes?" he asked, leaning over her.

"Why is the sky orange? And why didn't you tell me you were a triplet?" she asked dazedly.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand, helping her up. Woozily she stumbled forward, towards the sputtering, gagging group of children. Their eyes were leaking tears of pain as their bodies shook from the spine, the poison destroying their souls. THEIR SOULS, I SAY, THEIR _SOULS_!!!!

"Raz, darling," Milla said gently, "You can put Lili down now."

Raz shook. "I can't."

Sasha and Milla exchanged worried glances, since they were sure he'd finally snapped. He held Lili bridal style, one hand on her waist and one around her shoulders. His eyes were as big as the mushroom in the boys shower. Milla gave him a concerned look and stepped closer, which was no easy feat since she felt like she'd just been spun like wool.

"Why not?"

"Lili isn't wearing underwear today!" Raz howled as if in pain. "My – my fingers – there's this _stuff_ – how do I get out of this?!"

Sasha and Milla turned away. They were not fit to handle this, dammit. There was a fine line between adult humor and disgust. This crossed it. Sasha smirked at the thought, but Milla was just trying not to laugh, giggle, chuckle, or smile.

Then Sasha noticed something.

"Razputin, she's wearing underwear. That's just Gel-Filled Clear-Color Pure-Power Underwear™, guaranteed to provide protection from rain, sun, wind, sand, dust, ice, snow, low humidity, high humidity, sandstorms, thunder, lightning, rocks, beavers, pain, pleasure, power, sincerity, giant turtles, bats, the color blue, old boyfriends, alien probes, and mysterious odors. Gel-Filled Clear-Color Pure-Power Underwear™. For the strong, multi-tasking woman, look to Gel-Undies Incorporated for all your underwear needs."

Raz threw Lili aside, fell to his knees, smacked his hands together and prayed. "Oh thank you, sweet, merciful God! Your ways are mighty and gel-filled, and-"

Sasha interrupted him. "Cadet, have you been into my beer stash?"

"…Um, yeah."

"It shows."


	9. Sasha Takes Charge! Hai!

AN: Yes, it's short. I have no humor in my life and I'm bored. So my writing isn't at it's peak. But hey, I laughed at it. ;)

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"Well," Ford sighed, "What do we do now?"

"Try not to breathe through our noses?" Raz suggested.

"Obviously. But a plan of attack must be formed, and a plan of defense, though not necessarily in that order," Sasha mused.

Milla nodded, but her brain was shot for ideas, kinda like Lyre-19 after SATs.

"I suggest sparkler bombs." Sasha stated proudly.

"Too risky," Ford retorted. "Those are clear over in the Beach and we don't know what might be lurking there. Besides, if you aimed that thing wrong, the kids could get hurt."

"Do we have any kerosene?" Sasha asked thoughtfully.

Milla stared at him, annoyed. "Darling, you know that's what I use on my hair."

Sasha paused for a moment to think. Raz paused for a moment to stare at a squirrel that wanted to _kill_ him. Milla paused for a moment to wonder if she'd used too kerosene this morning. Ford paused just because no one else was doing anything. I paused to go brush my teeth mid way through this paragraph. It seemed as if the world had paused all at once.

"Screw it," Sasha declared, "I'm going to go kick that 'ghost's' ass now. Razputin, care to join me?"

"Nah," Raz shook his head. "This one's all you."

"But darling," Milla objected, "The fans expected several more chapters before the climax."

Sasha put a hand on her shoulder, and looked over his sunglasses into her eyes. The sunset behind them was a golden orange, the wind blew like in an old West film, the music was sad and slow. A tumbleweed rolled by. Milla's hair billowed softly in the wind, tinged with orange in the light.

"Sasha," she whispered.

"Milla," he replied, sternly, "Sometimes a man must face insane ghosts that make Cadets fart with insanity. Sometimes he must face this alone, for the good of his fellow Agents. You understand."

"But my insurance plan doesn't cover partner deaths!"

Sasha folded his arms and glared at her. "Thank you so much for the concern, Agent Vodello."

Will Sasha be able to face the Ghost? Will Milla admit her love for him? Oh, when oh when will Raz return to being in character? Will the tumbleweed find its mother? Will I be able to find a decent narrator?

Find out on the next Twenty Four Hours of Terror!


	10. Epic Ending

Rocks fell.

Everyone died.


End file.
